


Last Dream of My Soul

by foreverinfiction



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Multi, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverinfiction/pseuds/foreverinfiction
Summary: Tessa watched the boy with the blue eyes from across the campus cafe. It couldn't be her Will, but the resemblance was uncanny as he made his way over to her.
Relationships: Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray, Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray/Will Herondale, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Last Dream of My Soul

Tessa watched the boy with the blue eyes from across the campus cafe. She had curled up with her book, tucked herself away in the saturated evening sunlight, losing herself in the story until the light went away and she would walk, alone, back to her apartment. This small corner cafe had become her little escape, her sanctuary, her nook where she could read and remind herself of what it meant to be Tessa Gray. The last few months, spent pouring over research into magic and spells with the Spiral Labyrinth, didn’t bring unhappy memories. She actually had rather enjoyed the time she spent, coming up with ideas on interdimensional travel and spells that could animate pictures (a leftover idea when she and a friend had read Harry Potter together). But she missed the sunshine, missed the cold air as the snow fell, missed the feeling of losing herself in a story. 

So here she was, sitting in this small campus cafe. She had officially signed herself up for a degree in literature, specializing in poetry. It wasn’t her first or even her second. This was her fourth literature degree, all with different specialties, all with matching diplomas that she had in a box somewhere. The degree wasn’t important. It was a way to spend her time, an excuse to talk about books with others who loved books as much as she did. The book she was currently reading had no relation to her courses. (She had no need to study for them. She had read every book they assigned.) But still, she enjoyed arguing with the others in her class. She frustrated some of them, even her professors, but of course, she couldn’t really elaborate on why she didn’t like Hemingway. She couldn’t tell them the story of her husband bickering with her over  _ A Farewell to Arms _ when it had come out. 

“It is shoddy literature, Tess,” he declared over breakfast as he spread jam onto his toast. 

She laughed at him. “You’re becoming a grumpy old man, William Herondale,” she teased. “James quite liked it. Lucie said she actually got to meet the man in New York at a party.”

He took a bite and contemplated his response. “I thought Lucie said she despised him, that he was mean and a drunkard.”

“She did,” Tessa admitted. “However, she said she liked the book. You cannot blame her for that. It is a good book, William, even if it is not your favorite.”

Will smiled at her, that devil-may-care grin she always loved, that hadn’t faded even though they had both grown into respectable members of society. “I will concede, but only for the sake of our children who are now intent on reading these shoddy books.” She had laughed and teased him about the books they had read when they were just teenagers. 

In the present, the boy with the blue eyes interrupted her thoughts. “Edward or Jacob?” he asked. 

She frowned at him and he gestured to the book she was reading. She turned and looked at the cover.  _ Eclipse _ . It had just come out. She hadn’t loved the series so far, but it was something to read. “Oh,” she said. “I don’t particularly care for either.”

“Me, neither,” he said. “Pick someone else. Who would you be with? If you could pick anyone from history?”

She smiled at him. He looked uncannily similar to her Will, down to the tilt of his smile. Her breath caught in her throat. But surely, this wasn’t her Will. Fate wasn’t that kind. This was some other boy, in some other time, who also had dark curls and blue eyes. She grounded herself back to the conversation. “Who would you choose?” she asked. She just needed another moment to process this boy in front of her. He wore dark blue jeans and an ivory sweater, both of which brought out the blue in his eyes. He was very handsome, and he knew it. She could see it in how he held himself, sitting in the battered reading chair across from her.

“Sydney Carton,” he said, and she blinked. He grinned at her. “He’s miserable, I know, but he isn’t as bad when you read it with fresh eyes.”

Tessa smiled politely. “I once knew a boy who hated  _ A Tale of Two Cities _ . He despised it simply because Sydney Carton was miserable.”

This boy across from her grinned even more. “I’m Will,” he said. Of course, his name was Will. It was a common name. There was no reason to read more into it, she reminded herself. 

“Tessa,” she said. 

He smiled at her like she was the only one in the world. “Tessa,” he said, trying out the name on his lips. It made her blush in a way that she hadn’t in a very long time. “And who would you pick, Tessa?”

“Will Herondale,” she said, and she tried out the name on her lips. It had been so long since she had said his name. It felt strange but familiar, like a memory that had once been forgotten. She paused and the boy waited for her to elaborate. She cleared her throat. “He— um, he wrote a history. Nothing substantial, but I liked the way he used words to tell the story.”

The boy across from her, who so painfully reminded her of her Will, her husband with his dark hair and blue eyes and mischievous grin, smiled. “Much better pick than Edward,” he said. 

“You haven’t even heard of him,” she prompted. For a moment, just a moment, she imagined him saying what she wanted to hear. Of course, he had heard of him because he himself was Will Herondale, was her Will, with his blue eyes and dark hair. 

“No,” he said. “Probably some snobby bastard. History writers always are. But he can’t be any worse than Edward freaking Cullen.”

She laughed, actually laughed, and a few heads in the cafe turned to look at them. This Will smirked at her. “And tell me what you find so terrible about him?” she prompted. 

“He’s miserable,” Will answered. 

“So is Sydney Carton,” she countered. 

Will, this Will, frowned in mock offense. “Only on the first pass,” he argued. 

“Perhaps you only need to give  _ Twilight _ a second pass,” Tessa suggested. Her heart was aching. This boy was too similar to her Will. The memories would overwhelm her, but she missed this. God, she missed this. She didn’t want to argue books with her professors in class. She wanted to argue with Will, her Will. She knew he would have hated  _ Twilight _ . She herself didn’t love it. Sparkly vampires seemed ridiculous when you had friends who were actual vampires. Still, she read it. She wanted to know  _ why  _ her Will would have hated it, wanted to hear him complain about the obvious holes in the plot or Bella’s persistently poor mood. She could hear it in her head. Will’s voice. “I can’t believe you are reading this, Tess,” he said. “I thought you would have had better taste.”

But it wasn’t in her head. This boy across from her was saying it. “Why would you say that?” she asked, suddenly offended. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“I can see the copy of Voltaire in your bag,” he explained, with a small, apologetic smile. 

Tessa forced herself to take a deep breath. “Sorry,” she said. 

“No need for an apology,” he said, then he looked at his watch. “I have to get to class, but I’ll see you around?”

She nodded. “Sure,” she said.

He grinned at her again, with that gorgeous, charming smile as he slung his backpack onto his shoulder. He started to walk away, but then he turned back. “Oh, and Tess?”

She met his gaze and for a moment, just a moment, she tried to memorize the color of his eyes, of this boy who reminded her so much of her own Will. “Yes?” she answered. 

“Enjoy your time with him tomorrow. You both deserve it.” She was too confused to answer and then he was gone, walking out of the cafe and she watched for him out of the window, but he never passed. He should have. In order to get back to campus, he would have had to walk past the window by her, but she didn’t see him. She reached for her bag, scrambling to check for the copy of Voltaire he had claimed was there. She didn’t remember grabbing it to bring with her today, but she didn’t put it past herself to forget to take it out from earlier. And yet, when she dug through her bag, she couldn’t find it. 

Sitting back in the chair, Tessa forced herself to take a few deep breaths. That couldn’t have possibly been her Will. He had died, in her arms, over half a century before. She had felt his breath leave his body for the last time. She had cried and mourned his death. Maybe it was his ghost? But even still, she couldn’t see ghosts. It was a Herondale trait that Will had passed to their children, but she had never been able to. It didn’t make sense, but how else could it? 

She felt flustered and her heart ached. She pushed that down. It was too much to process, so she gathered up her belongings and made her way home in the darkness alone. 

* * *

She wouldn’t understand the meaning of what he had said until the following afternoon as she stood on Blackfriars Bridge, the cool January wind biting through the sweater she wore. The pieces didn’t fully come together until Jem, her Jem, stood before her, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, asking if she still loved him, if she would give him another chance to love her. She had kissed him then, pulling him in close as she and Jem started on their own journey together.

* * *

Years later, as she held her daughter in her arms, she would find the note, tucked away in her copy of  _ Eclipse _ . Tessa pulled the book off of the shelf and sat down in the rocking chair by the oversized window in the library at Cirenworth. She settled Mina in her lap, her daughter playing with the pearl bracelet on her wrist as Tessa opened the book for the first time since that day in the cafe. There was a note written in blue ink on the title page.  _ I love you, forever and always, Tess. You will always be the first and last dream of my soul, but I cannot believe your standards in literature have dropped so low _ . 

It was impossible. He had never even touched her book, but here was the note he had left. His handwriting, his words. She ran her fingers over it as her daughter pulled at the bracelet Will had given to Tessa. She smiled. “It is a better book than you give it credit for, William Herondale,” she said to the empty room. 

Sitting in the opposite chair, visible only to the little girl in Tessa’s lap, Will grinned. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am a firm believer that Will checks in on Tessa and Jem, and I had a fun time writing this sort of story. Also, this story is 1862 words, which is the year that Tessa was born. That wasn't intentional, but I enjoy that fact. Let me know what you think of it this story. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
